


One New Email

by amastiel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Inspired by Love Simon, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-06
Updated: 2019-05-09
Packaged: 2020-02-18 16:42:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18703468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amastiel/pseuds/amastiel
Summary: Even top of his class Sam Winchester wasn't immune to the lure of the gossip on the anonymous Lawrence High Confessions board. But when someone in his class posts a secret that hits a little too close to home, armed only with an email and the pseudonym "Angeles," Sam gets a little more personally invested than he ever thought he would.





	1. Welcome to Gmail

**Author's Note:**

> As tagged, this work was inspired by the movie "Love, Simon," but will not simply be a total rewrite of the plot. 
> 
> Additional tags will be added as necessary, but I don't think anything too graphic will be included.
> 
> Finally, a huge thanks to Tumblr user Sastiei, who not only served as my beta, but was also my biggest motivator for writing this <3

Waking up to an alarm was never pleasant, but it was even less pleasant when it was someone else’s alarm. It didn’t matter how nice the three bedroom two bath used to be. The walls had always been rather thin. This was only made worse by the fact that the house was also undeniably empty.

His father owned a mechanic shop, which meant that his alarm went off every morning a full hour and a half before his so he could finish fixing up the cars before customers came looking. It was always quieter in the morning.

Sam never told his dad that his alarm woke him up every morning. What exactly could his dad do? Not go to work? Their family was already scraping by on the bare minimum as it was. Other than the sound of the alarm, typically the only other sounds his dad made were the shower running, the sound of the coffee pot, and the door closing behind him. And to be quite honest, he’d rather avoid the argument.

Besides, it was kinda nice to have a bit of time in the mornings before school. Time that he could use to reflect on his dreams from the night before and organize his thoughts for the coming day. At least, that’s how he liked to rationalize it for himself. What he actually did was indulge himself in a bit of guilty pleasures. Maybe he should take up running instead. Too late to start that today though.

When it came to school, Sam Winchester was hardworking and studious. He had to be if he wanted to get into his dream college. He had a few friends, but mostly kept to himself. But like everyone else his age, he felt the pressure to keep up with what was happening at school in more than just an academic sense. So he liked reading gossip. Sue him.

He picked up his phone from his bedside table and started skimming through Twitter, knowing full well that it was just the appetizer. Twitter drama was always relatively dry. Football team lost the game? Yawn. The date for senior prom was decided? Like he’d have a date. All things he would’ve found out by going to school. But hey, it was Twitter. If you said anything too controversial, people knew exactly who you were in real life. And it really wasn’t worth the trouble. 

The anonymous Lawrence High Confessions boards? That was where the good stuff was. And everybody knew it. Sam scrolled from the top down (since it wasn’t like it needed to be read in chronological order or anything) and the first post was already good. Someone made out with their bully’s boyfriend. Someone got mildly injured getting a handjob on the bus. So typically high school, but these were the kinds of confessions that kept him hooked. And always with just enough detail so you couldn’t figure out who it was.

Sam tried not to get too invested in the confessions. He could probably figure out who was writing them, but why waste the effort on something that didn’t affect him?

At least, that’s what he thought until he saw a confession that was posted the afternoon before that stopped him dead in his tracks.

***

_I’ve written this post out over and over again in my head and it nevers feels good enough, so I just need to write these words I need to say out for my own sanity._

_I’m gay._

_It feels like if I keep this to myself any longer, it’s just going to explode out of me. I don’t have anyone I can trust enough to share this with without the guise of anonymity, so I’m sharing this all with you. I am gay. I just needed to get this off my chest before it kills me._

_Not quite ready to give away the keys to the closet I’ve lived in for seventeen years though. Not exactly trying to be remembered as “The gay guy” from the class of 2020. To the handful of out LGBTQ+ students at this school, you’re far braver than I will ever be._

_When I graduate, I’ll go to college in a town far away where no one knows me and I’ll be free to live my life as I please. But until then, I think I’m going to keep the rest of the closet door shut. Just know that there is, in fact, a closet here._

_-Angeles_

***

Ho. Ly. Shit. Sam had to reread the post three times before he could actually process it. Which was saying something because the post was pretty direct in its message. His mind immediately started to try to analyze what information could he discern from this post. Class of 2020. So they were in the same year. That narrowed it down significantly, but it was still a pretty huge class. Used a male gendered term to refer to himself. So probably a male student. Wants to go to college. That… didn’t really help much.

The reason it resonated so much with him was because he felt almost the exact same way. Sam was gay. Or bi. Or pan. Or something. Whatever label he eventually did or did not pick for himself would definitely include some kind of attraction other guys. Because it was so undeniable for him. It had been for years.

Not that he felt comfortable coming out either. He had absolutely no idea how his family would react to the news and the small Kansas town they lived in was a bit on the conservative side. Like the post had mentioned, there were maybe three out people in the entire school. It didn’t seem like their experience was too bad, but there had been a few isolated incidents of things like slurs written on whiteboards and things like that.

The only other information that he had was the name he signed (which was undoubtedly fake because there was a total of zero students in the entire student body with the name “Angeles”) and his email that was obviously created for the purpose of posting this: angelescloset20. He could theoretically email him, but was he brave enough to do so? Could he actually come out to a total stranger, even when completely anonymous?

When he heard the door shut as his dad left for work, it acted like a trigger to get him up out of bed and to his computer. It was like he was running on autopilot, putting absolutely no thought into his action as he opened up a tab of Chrome and navigated to Gmail. No, he couldn’t use his account. HIs email contained his name in it in case he needed to do any kind of professional communication. Gotta make a new one.

He sat there at the new account creation screen, the cursor blinking steadily in the username field almost like the ticking of a clock. Sam took a quick glance around his room, his shaggy hair brushing at his jaw as his head turned to look for some kind of vague inspiration for an email address. His eyes settled on his laundry pile, a purple tee shirt with a greyhound printed on it. Good enough.

Turning back to his computer, he entered “his” information. First name: Purple. Last name: Dog. Username: purpledog. Of course that was taken, so he added his birth year at the end. Thankfully, there was no purpledog2002 yet. Gender: Male. Birthday was, naturally, January 1st, 2002. Or at least that’s what he put. Created an extra secure password, just in case.

Creating the account was the easy part. He took a deep breath to compose himself, staring at the generic “Welcome to Gmail” email in his new inbox before hitting the “Compose email” button. The blank email was no less comforting. The first step was pulling up the Lawrence High Confessions site and copying Angeles' email. Not that he didn’t have his email all but memorized, but the thought of making a mistake and sending this personal email to an even stranger stranger made him want to close the tab completely.

He took a deep breath. Just one step at a time. No need to overthink this. What was next? The subject line. It wasn’t like this was the first email he had ever written. “Your LHC Post.” Short and to the point. Good enough, he supposed.

Now for the hard part. The actual email. Sam got up from his computer and paced around his room nervously. What exactly _did_ he want to say? That he understood? That he was in the same situation? Angeles was right. No matter how he arranged the words in his head, nothing felt quite right.

Pacing, as it turned out, didn’t help him write this email at all, so he forced himself back into his seat. One more deep breath and he let his fingertips delicately rest on the home row of his keyboard. It wasn’t like he was asking the guy out or anything…

 _Hello Angeles,_ he typed quickly. No, that wasn’t right. Way too formal. It wasn’t like he was about to invite the guy to a job interview. He pushed the backspace key until there was no remains of the text.

 _Sup, Angeles?_ Now he was overcompensating and making it way too casual. It wasn’t like they were old friends catching up. Once again, he cleared the text.

 _Hi Angeles_. That was… appropriate. Still felt a little bit awkward, but he doubted there was anything that he could say that wouldn’t feel awkward. Double enter. Deep exhale.

 _I saw your post on Lawrence High Confessions._ That was a given, considering the subject line. But it still felt good to include.

 _Even if you’re not coming out publicly, I still think what you did was pretty brave._ The more he wrote, the easier he found the words coming out. Even considering how he was about to be more brutally honest with this faceless stranger than he had ever been with anyone in his life. New paragraph.

_I guess I’m just emailing to say that you’re not alone in your situation. I’m gay too. Well, maybe not. I haven’t quite found the label that fits me best yet. But I’m definitely a guy who is interested in other guys._

Once the words left his fingers, he got up from his chair, putting his fingers over his lips as though he were shocked at the words that came flowing out of them. He actually typed that. He was actually going to tell someone that he had feelings for other guys. And honestly? It felt good.

_I don’t really have anyone that I can tell either. Well, anyone besides you. My family has bigger problems and to be honest, I have no idea how they would react. I have a few friends, but mostly just people I have classes with or clubs. No one I really feel comfortable telling my deep dark secrets to._

_You said you were in the class of 2020, right? Me too. I wonder if we’ve had any classes together. Probably at some point. I know the year just started, but I can’t wait for it to be over. Good luck with your college apps. I hope you get into your first choice of college and can live the free life that you talked about._

_I hope maybe I could hear back from you? If not, I understand._

_Regards._ No, that was to stiff. He was overthinking things again. Back to the backspace key.

 _Cheers._ What, was he British now? Something about it just didn’t feel authentic enough for the rest of what he had written.

 _Sincerely_. That could work. Since he was, after all, simply being sincere with his words. Whatever. He just needed to stop overthinking again.

He quickly wrote in his moniker, _Purple_ , and hovered over the send button. No way he could send it until he double, triple, and quadruple checked every sentence. He almost read it as many times as he read the original post. Finally when he was confident that there was at the very least no typos, he sucked in a breath, closed his eyes, and clicked the send button.

A small _swoosh_ played from his speakers, indicating that the email had been sent. Sam sat at his computer in a state of disbelief. He actually just did that. Now someone in the world knew about his sexual identity. Kind of.

He sat in silence at his computer for a few minutes, until the sound of his own alarm startled him back to reality. Picking up his phone and silencing the jarring alarm, he added his newly created email into his phone. He had no idea if Angeles even monitored that email address. But he certainly hoped he did.  

Unfortunately, he couldn’t just sit around and wait for a reply. If he didn’t get in the shower right now, he’d risk being late for his first class. And as eager as he was to get a reply, it was not worth risking his perfect attendance over. Not when he was so close to graduation. So he closed his computer, grabbed some clean clothes from the dresser, and went to get ready for the rest of the day.


	2. Absence Makes the Heart Pine Harder

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Considering it's been less than 24 hours since I posted Chapter 1, I thought I should set the expectation that my posting schedule is definitely not going to be like this always. I'm aiming for a chapter every two weeks, but I am an adult with a job, so I make no promises.

The first thing Sam did when he got to school was refresh his email. Theoretically it should automatically push the email to his phone if and when an email came in, but he couldn’t exactly be blamed for being anxious. Zero new emails. Updated just now. The anticipation might actually kill him. 

If the anticipation didn’t kill him, the bulletin board in the main hallway might. Every year the faculty liked to encourage a bit of “friendly competition between the best and brightest” of the senior class. What that meant is that they posted the GPAs of the top five students in the senior class in a sort of race to compete for valedictorian. 

The updated list was posted every Friday morning. Didn’t the administration know that they just stressed them out even more? Didn’t the teachers have anything better to do than to calculate grade point averages? Wasn’t this an invasion of their privacy?

He could complain as much as he wanted, but this time tested tradition would most likely not be changed. Not by him at least.

On one hand, it was kind of nice to have confirmation that he was still at the top of his class. And he took as many AP classes as he could to boost his weighted GPA as much as possible to ensure that he stayed at the top. 

On the other hand, there was Castiel Novak. 

How could he describe Castiel Novak? Though he shared a number of classes (particularly AP classes) with him, Sam never really talked to Castiel. Not because he hated him or anything. Castiel Novak just didn’t really talk to people. He was a quiet kid who kept to himself and he had since his family had moved to Lawrence in the middle of the sophomore year.

Apart from the three classes he had with Castiel - AP Literature, AP Chemistry, and AP Calculus AB - he knew that he took a lot of artistic classes. And his portfolio was apparently very impressive. He’d won more than a few awards for his art and music, having been the first chair violin since he moved to their school. Rumor had it that his art was displayed in national shows, but Sam wasn’t close enough to anyone in the art department to know for sure. 

Outside of Castiel's school life, not much was really known about him. His father was the pastor at one of the local churches and his mother was the church’s “administrative assistant.” So his mom was essentially his dad’s secretary. He only knew this because his friend Brady attended the same church. 

Coming back to the valedictorian race, Castiel had one advantage that Sam did not: AP Music History. It was pretty much the one AP class in the entire school that would hurt instead of help his GPA. And Castiel was apparently a musical prodigy. 

And it was starting to reflect in his grade. Sure they were only a few weeks into the school year, but Castiel had already climbed up one one hundredth of a point. Maybe it didn’t sound like much, but Sam didn’t have much leeway. 

Speak of the devil, three guesses who just walked into the building. 

Physically speaking, Castiel had dark brown hair that always looked like he had just woken up five minutes earlier. His lips were pink and looked incredibly soft, even if they seemed to be perpetually chapped. Undoubtedly his most striking feature was his eyes. Depending on the lighting, they could be anything from a vibrant sapphire to an icy steele and were framed with long, dark lashes. 

As he turned to get his books from his locker, Sam took a moment to admire his profile. His cheekbones were high and well defined. Sam’s gaze followed the sharp line of his jaw all the way up to his ear, where he couldn’t help but notice the way a small tuft of hair curled around his ear. Though he was only a few inches shorter than Sam, he stood on tiptoe to reach a notebook on the top shelf of his locker. Overall, his build could be described as lean, yet toned. At least from what he could see without overtly checking him out. 

Honestly he’d be pretty cute if Sam could think of him as anything other than his academic rival. 

Castiel held his chemistry textbook and notebook to his chest and made a beeline for the classroom, not even bothering to stop and check the grades posting. It was mildly infuriating how effortlessly he made it all look and yet so aloof to the outcome. 

Oh well. There were more important things to think about at the moment than Castiel Novak. Sam pulled out his phone and refreshed his email again. No new messages. Maybe after class. 

If anything, today he should be grateful for Castiel. Castiel was very much the sit-at-the-very-front-of-the-room types and Sam sat right behind him, so it wasn’t like he could easily forget about him. The posted grades and his physical presence in the class, watching Castiel as he wrote down his notes in small, neat handwriting between taking his own notes, was enough to keep his mind off the vibrations of his phone in his pocket. Or, to be more accurate, the lack thereof. 

But as soon as the bell rang and class was dismissed, he quickly packed his books up with one hand, while his other immediately shot for his phone. Technically he wasn’t allowed to check his phone during school, but as long as he wasn’t using it during class, none of the teachers really cared. 

There was nothing on the lockscreen to indicate that he had any notifications, but that didn’t stop him from opening the Gmail app and manually refreshing it. He knew better than to get his hopes up, yet he was still ended up feeling a bit disappointed. 

Sitting there refreshing his email wouldn’t make a reply come any faster. It would only make him late for his next class, so he put his phone back, slung his backpack over his shoulder, and headed to his next class. 

The next class he wasn’t so lucky. It wasn’t an AP class, so there was no Castiel to distract him from his thoughts. Thoughts that were less thoughts, more daydreams. If he did receive a reply, what would Angeles say? Maybe they could be penpals. Maybe they’d hit it off. Maybe they’d end up dating. Okay, he was definitely getting way ahead of himself. How could he already be crushing so hard on a guy he’s never even talked to before? 

The next few classes were no better. Even AP Calculus couldn’t take his mind off of his daydreams. And it didn’t help that Castiel sat at the other side of the room in this class. Thankfully it was the last class before lunch, so hopefully his friends could at least help take his mind off things. Because the bell just rang and there were still no new emails. 

The food in the cafeteria wasn’t  _ bad _ . It just wasn’t good. But that sounds about on par for all school food and since he qualified for free lunches because his family was considered low income, he couldn’t exactly complain. But a spoonful lightly seasoned ground beef stuffed in a tortilla with about half a head of lettuce and some yellow semi solid they can't legally call cheese, a taco does not make. 

Knowing Brady and Madison, they had already seen the updated grades posted this morning. When the news was good, they celebrated. They wouldn't go as far as trash talking Castiel, but they certainly pumped up his ego. When the news wasn't as good, they avoided talking about it at all costs. 

“So, Sam, have you decided your top three colleges yet?” Madison asked in her usual chipper voice. 

Ah, yes. Because  _ that _ wasn't going to stress him out. “Not yet. I know my top is Stanford, but I haven’t decided my mid and my safety yet. If nothing else, I’m positive I can get into KU. But I think I can find an even better safety,” he answered

“Well, duh. We all know that much,” Brady commented with a laugh. And he had a point. Stanford had been his dream college for as long as he could remember. 

“Let’s be real, I’ll probably end up applying for a lot more than three colleges,” he joked back. “I’ll just have to wait until the grades are officially posted for the semester so I can see what transcripts I get to send.”

“C’mon. No way he’s going to pass you. Besides, even if he does, there’s no way you could possibly drop down below a 4.0. You got a 1525 on the SAT and a 35 on the ACT. Stanford would be stupid not to accept you,” Madison encouraged. 

“That’s not even taking into consideration your volunteer work and extra curriculars,” Brady added. 

Yet another good point. His scores were already around the average for Stanford acceptance. But he wasn’t going to be assured until he had a letter with an official seal and signature for an admission director saying, “Congratulations.”

“Yeah, but if I can’t put the word “Valedictorian” on my application, what even is the point?” Sam groaned dramatically. 

Brady rolled his eyes, knowing that Sam was only halfway joking with his dramatism. “Dude, they’re not even announcing val and sal until like, a month before graduation. You should have your answer before then. And it’s not like they’re going to offer you a spot and then take it back if you end up being second place.. That’s just a dick move.”

“Hey! Don’t jinx me like that!”

“Sam,” Madison interjected sternly. “You’re going to do fine. He’s still a few points behind. I don’t think he’ll be able to make that up years worth of work in the course of a few months. 

“Y’know as smart as you are, Sam, you really should be the one who’s thinking about all of this logically.”

“I know, I know. I’ve just had my heart set on Stanford for so long. It’ll crush me if I don’t get in. All of these years of work for what? To go to… I don’t know... Northwestern?”

“You are way too stressed out about college. We’ve still got the rest of the year ahead of us. What we need to do is find you a girlfriend,” Brady said, his lips curving into a bit of a mischievous smile.

That was literally the last thing he wanted at the moment. But he couldn’t exactly tell him that. At least, not the actual reason why. His friends didn’t even know he was into guys. He didn’t think they would hate him or anything if he came out. Well, probably. He knew Brady and his family were religious, but it wasn’t like they sat around having political discussions about LGBTQ+ rights. At the very least, he was confident that Madison would be supportive. 

But how could he explain that he was waiting on an email that may not even come? Because he was crushing hard on Angeles and couldn’t even entertain the idea of dating someone else. Someone whose real name or face he didn’t even know. Everything he did know about the guy was based on a post that was maybe 200 words. 

It didn’t make any sense at all, but it was undeniable. Something about a guy that could be so open with his feelings, even if couldn’t quite say them publicly, was just incredibly attractive to him.

“What? Dude, no. You know no matter what college I go to, I don’t plan on staying in Kansas, right? Unless KU is literally my only option. What’s the point of getting a girlfriend if I’m only going to be around for a year? Unless you know a girl at school who also happens to be Stanford bound.”

“Fun, Sam. That is the point of it. And it’s not like I’m telling you to find a wife. Just a casual relationship.”

“Yeah, well, fun doesn’t come until after college acceptance letters.”

“So much for loosening up.”

“I appreciate the concern, but let’s not ignore the fact that I would be a terrible boyfriend until I get some kind of letter from Stanford. I’m already a sub par friend.”

The erupted in laughter together as a group. Of course, no one at the table actually thought that about Sam. Not even Sam. But it was the closest thing to fun he could afford at the moment. 

At least, that was what he thought until he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. It obviously wasn’t any of his friends texting him because they were all here at the table. He hadn’t posted anything on Twitter recently, so most likely not a like or a retweet. Really, there was only one possibility in his mind. 

He tried to hide how he pulled his phone out from underneath the table, taking a quick glance at the notification. His friends would tease him mercilessly if he used his phone in the middle of a conversation. But that made it harder not to react as his suspicions were confirmed. 

_ Subject: Re: Your LHC Post _

_ Hello, Purple, Thank you so much for your kind em... _

Right as the bell rang for his next class. Just perfect.


	3. Time After Time

“Sam?” Madison had apparently called his name a few times already. “Earth to Sam. We're gonna be late to class.”

He had never wanted to skip a class more than he did right now. It was some dumb Kansas history class that he couldn't graduate without, but Sam pushed back until senior year so he could get the AP social sciences out of the way. It wasn’t like it was anything that was actually going to help him be a lawyer or anything. Unless maybe he wanted to be a lawyer in Kansas. Which he did not.

But he knew that he couldn't skip. It was the only class that he shared with Madison and again, not really ready to explain that he couldn't go to class because he got an email from a guy he had the most ridiculous crush on.

This was torture. Plain and simple torture.

He quickly slipped his phone back in his pocket before they could notice. “Oh, yeah, sorry. Just had an idea… for one of my Stanford essays.” Real smooth, Sam.

If she was suspicious, she didn't show it as she picked up her tray and took it to the return. Sam followed closely behind with his own tray, trying his hardest to keep up with the conversation as they walked to class together. But to be perfectly honest, Madison could ask him what he just said and he wouldn’t be able to tell her.

The only word he could clearly make out was “test.” Oh shit. They had their first Kansas history test today. Not that he was particularly worried about the test. He studied plenty the night before. But there went his plan to sneak off to the bathroom and check the email.

Sam and Madison took their usual seats just as the bell to start class rung. The teacher was a middle aged guy who had probably never left Kansas in his entire life. Sam had him for a few other classes and he was admittedly not the best teacher. Thankfully, Sam was a diligent student and not only could he learn the material on his own, but he could also anticipate what kind of test he would be given.

Students cleared theirs desks of their last minute study materials as the exam papers were handed out. Twenty five multiple choice, five open ended, one essay. A bit much for a class that wasn’t even AP, but it was just as he had predicted. He glanced over his exam, feeling pretty confident in his ability to answer all of the questions. Sometimes being a good student is just knowing what your teacher will test you on.

The multiple choice questions only kept him occupied for about five minutes and he finished the open ended questions not much later. He glanced up at the clock to check his pacing. Not 15 minutes had passed. Which meant he had about 35 to use on the essay.

It took him a little more than twenty minutes to write his paragraphs about agriculture and the El Quartelejo pueblo. Now the torture actually began. Couldn’t leave the room during a test. Definitely couldn’t use his phone. Couldn’t even pull out a book to read. All he could do was sit there, listening to the sound of the clock ticking and pencils to paper while he “checked his answers.”

Occasionally he flipped his test back and forth. His eyes were certainly pointed in the general direction of his test, but prehistoric Kansas was the last thing on his mind. All he had was the tiniest snipped -- not even a full sentence -- of Angeles’s response and yet he was already over analyzing it.

 _Hello Purple_ . He chose “hello,” yet somehow it didn’t feel as distant as it had felt when he was writing his email. Maybe because it was followed up with _Thank you so much_? Or maybe it was chosen to create a sense of distance. Just because Sam was crushing didn’t necessarily mean the opposite was true at all. He wasn’t trying to hit on Angeles in his email. Just because they both liked guys didn’t mean they had to like each other.

Wow, he didn’t even read the email and he was already preparing himself for rejection.

It was his own fault for getting way too invested before he even knew anything about the guy. What was he actually hoping for from this guy? Friendship? Something more? Brady had a point about getting a girlfriend and having a little fun. The only problem was he'd rather have a boyfriend.

But he couldn't really decide what he wanted with this guy until he actually got to know him. Not just the version of him he imagined in his head. Until then, he was free to continue with his harmless little crush.

It felt like forever before the bell rang, mentally going back and forth between imagining them falling in love and anticipating rejection the entire time. So much so that he actually jumped in surprise when the bell did ring. Finally.

Sam was the first to jump up and hand his test in. “Congratulations, Sam. I saw that you scored a 5 on your AP World History exam last year,” the teacher said in regards to the class he had with him last year.

Please no. No more small talk. He couldn't take it. Just let him go check his emails. He was practically begging. “Yeah. Guess I just got lucky.”

“Give yourself some credit, Sam! You were a great student. One of the best I've ever had the pleasure teaching.”

“Thank you. Gotta keep focused this year…” he said, trying his best to excuse himself.

“Don't work yourself too hard. I know how stressful senior year is. With college applications and prom and graduation. Make sure you're taking time to rest. Or you'll burn yourself out before you ever get to college. Gotta take care of your mental health too.”

How do you politely tell someone their conversation was a detriment to your mental health? “Will do, Mr. Jones.”

“And hey, if you need any letters of recommendation for your applications, let me know.”

That was… actually pretty helpful. But just… some other time _please_. “I'll keep that in mind, thank you.”

“Not that your application isn't already impressive enough,” he joked in that way that teachers do.

Sam gave a polite laugh with him. “We'll see. I really need to get to my next class. Catch you tomorrow,” he said, picking up his backpack and heading out of the class before Mr. Jones could get in another word.

As soon as he got out of the classroom, he pulled out his phone. Shit. He literally had a minute to get to class across the hall. The email notification on his lockscreen right below the phone’s clock was taunting him. But now if he didn't hurry, he really would be late for class.

He all but ran down the hall to get to class, arriving just before the bell rang. AP literature was a surprisingly laid back class. It was pretty much the only AP class with full enrollment. The teacher was one of those just-call-me-by-my-first-name types who liked to pretend like she was friends with all of the students. Sam liked her well enough. Especially because she wasn't stingy with the bathroom pass.

The only seat remaining was in the front next to Castiel. Fine. Whatever. He'd take it. Maybe his presence would be just as helpful in distracting him as it was in Chemistry this morning. Just until he could find an opportunity to ask to be excused.

Nope. Castiel Novak could be sitting in his lap and it wouldn't be enough to distract him. His phone was practically itching in his pocket and he couldn't sit still to save his life. He wouldn't be surprised if everyone in class probably thought he was probably on drugs or snapped under all of the academic pressure.

“Since I'm so sure you've all done the reading,” the teacher said, the sarcasm in her voice not lost, “I want you all to pair up with the person next to you and take about five, ten minutes to discuss it.”

Perfect. As the teacher came by with every obvious intention of pairing him up with Castiel, he stopped her before she could say anything. “Sorry. I've really got to go to the bathroom. I think I ate something bad at lunch,” he groaned softly with his hand over his stomach.

She glanced over to Castiel. “I trust you've done the reading as always, Castiel. Would you like to join a different group?”

Castiel nodded his head slowly. “I'm fine,” he responded, his voice low and soft.

Hey, as far as he could tell, Castiel wasn't exactly the group discussion type. So in a way, he was doing the guy a favor by leaving.

The teacher went back to her desk, satisfied with their arrangement, and literally tossed him the hall pass. “Thanks, Lori,” Sam said brightly as he caught the key and exited the class in a hurry.

He couldn't get to the bathroom fast enough. The bathroom was empty considering everyone was in class at the moment, so he all but threw himself into the first stall, locking the door behind him. His hands were shaking as he pulled the phone out of his pocket. Whether it was nerves or excitement, he couldn't say. He could barely enter his phone unlock code, his hands were so unsteady.

His thumb hovered over the Gmail icon, an inviting red “1” in the top right corner, taking a deep breath before pressing down. Sure enough, the email was sitting there in the inbox. Part of him was starting to wonder if he had dreamed it. Without dwelling on it any further, he tapped again and opened the email.

***

_Hello Purple,_

_Thank you so much for your kind email. I've received a few responses to my post on the confession board, but certainly none as kind as yours. A few of them have been rather unkind, but mostly people who want to know my identity for seemingly no other reason than to satisfy their own curiosity. People just like knowing secrets, I think._

_I don't really think what I've done is brave. It was more for my own sanity than anything else. But it's comforting to know that I'm not the only one who's keeping this secret. I think you were far braver for sending this email. It's one thing to shout your secret into the void. It's a completely different thing to actually reach out to someone. Regardless of whether you know their name or face or not._

_I'm sorry you're not really close enough with anyone you can share this with. I think we're in similar situations in that regard. I know if my parents found out, they wouldn't be supportive. I'm not sure to what extent though. In an ideal world, coming out wouldn't be such a big deal. It hurts that there's a core part of myself that people I care about would hate if I told them. But I'm happy I can share it with you now._

_Yes, I'm the in the class of 2020. I don't really want to give out too many more details about my classes or anything like that. I'm sure you're a nice guy, but I'm still not really comfortable with you knowing my identity. Sorry._

_As for colleges, I don't really know what college I want to go to or even what I want to major in. All I know is that I don't want to stay here. And I want to get out ASAP. I've been thinking recently and I think I'd like to try to go to California. Is that cliche? I think it might be._

_I wasn't really planning on monitoring this email account, but I think I changed my mind._

_I look forward to your response._

_Warmly,_

_Angeles_

***

The email was… not quite what he had expected. Somehow, it was even better than his best expectation. It was so polite, but not in a way that was at all off putting. And yet it still had a way of making him feel incredibly special. He understood why Angeles was trying to keep a bit of distance and yet was still so open with his emotions and invited him to continue the conversation. In fact, he was _looking forward_ to it.

Sam’s eyes scanned over the email a few more times before clutching the phone to his chest with a happy sigh. On second thought, the email was absolutely _awful_. Now his inexplicable crush was about ten times worse. Angeles was going to keep the email just to contact him? Sam might as well start planning their wedding.

After a quiet moment of reflecting on the email, Sam pulled the phone from his chest and checked the time. It seemed like Sam had been obsessing over the email forever, but according to the time, it had only been about two minutes. He could probably find the time to respond before going back to class, right? Since, after all, Angeles was _looking forward_ to it. Just mentally repeating those words was enough to cause a happy laugh to escape his lips.

He took another deep breath and pressed the reply button. Typically he’d prefer to send emails from his computer, but he just couldn’t wait until next period study hall to send it. Trying hard not to overthink it would be the hard part.

***

_Hi Angeles,_

_I have to admit, I’m kinda surprised you responded to my totally unsolicited email at all. I think this is what being starstruck must feel like._

_Sorry to hear you've got some douchebags in your inbox. I wish I could say I was surprised but, well, I don't have to tell you how Lawrence is. If you need me to fight anyone, just let me know. ;)_

_Don't worry. I promise I'm not trying to out you or anything. I like to think that maybe one day we'll be comfortable enough to reveal our identities to each other._

_Oh jeez. Now I probably sound like one of those other douchebags in your inbox. Whether you tell me who you are or not, I enjoy talking with you. Never feel like you have to tell me who you are. That's totally up to you._

_If emailing someone to reach out about your problems makes you brave, you technically emailed me back, so, congratulations! You're brave too. And I still think doing something that starts a conversation like this is brave, so you're like, twice as brave as I am._

_I guess I can't really talk much about the specifics of my family without outing who I am. The whole gay thing just seems so… insignificant compared to everything else that's going on. Not that it's not important to me, but there's already more than enough on our plate at the moment. I'm sorry to hear about your family. Sounds like you've got it a bit rougher than me. Just know that at the very least, you've got my support. Hope you can get out soon._

_If wanting to go to California is cliche, then I'm a cliche too. My top choice of college is in California, so I've got my fingers crossed for that. Admittedly it's more so for the college itself, but I can't say I'm not looking forward to the environment too. Good weather. Warm beaches. Shirtless guys jogging. It's practically paradise. Haha_

_It means a lot to me that you decided to keep this email._

_I really enjoy talking with you and I hope you email me back soon?_

_Sincerely,_

_Purple_

_***_

It was a bit more scattered than his first email, but the words seemed to flow much more naturally from his fingers this time. Maybe because he was actually starting to get to know him? A quick triple check for typos and the email was sent. And it actually felt pretty good this time.


End file.
